


the world has ended (so dance with me)

by Amy_Stark117



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guns, Infection, Mentions of Death, Mutual Pining, The Last of Us! AU, idk what else to tag, lemme know if i miss anything!, tlou!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy_Stark117/pseuds/Amy_Stark117
Summary: “Whatever. You’ll love me eventually. People usually do.”At that he laughs, loudly and mockingly, but you look unaffected, as if you expected his reaction.“Highly doubt that, sweetheart, but keep dreamin’. Whatever lets you sleep at night.” He smiles sweetly, but it’s about as real as this apocalypse being a giant prank. ‘Love you eventually’. What a load of bull. Like that will ever happen.(In a world of darkness, Atsumu finally finds his light.)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 77





	the world has ended (so dance with me)

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey! this was supposed to be a one-shot but ended up looking like it was going to be a LOT longer so i'm splitting it into 2 parts! like in the tags this is a tlou au because i'm still riding the waves of finishing the second game and i couldn't get this idea out of my head, i just love atsumu so much ugh the things i would do for this idiot. if there are any mistakes please lemme know and enjoy! feedback is appreciated as always!!

Atsumu doesn't understand the need for weddings or marriage. 

In theory, he supposes he understands it - it's a unification of love, of two people pledging themselves to one another for eternity, to promise to care for each other until the time comes when age gets the best of you and you're tossed into the earth to rot.

Maybe it was a necessity in the past, of a time when partying and showcasing love to the world was a priority, instead of trying not to be torn apart by infected or wondering when your next meal was going to be. Maybe back then it was cause for celebration, when people could come together and rejoice. The only time people seem to come together now is when they’re trying to rob you - or kill you. Neither matter, really, when it always ends up with someone dead, and for what? Some beans?

But the time for weddings and love has long since passed, and all that remains are the memories of a bygone era, when life was easy, when life was good. 

And as Atsumu watches the couple twirl on the dancefloor under the meagre fairy lights, as the attendees cheer and clap, as people play on their guitars and makeshift drums, and as people soak in the happy atmosphere, Atsumu just...doesn’t understand it.

It’s irresponsible, with the way they’re living. The community may be big enough, but the area still has holes in their defenses - a few armed civilians walking around the perimeter mean nothing when there are no high walls to protect the makeshift town. There’s nothing stopping this housing estate - turned community from being overrun at a moments notice, that this community centre they’ve turned into a temporary chapel wouldn’t collapse should infected start pounding at the door. 

Sure, they’re constantly growing and improving the area, but a few filled houses and a couple of guns don’t make this town impregnable. And Atsumu is all too aware of that as he scowls, annoyed with the noise levels in the room. He’s pretty sure they could be heard from miles away, and he expects a horde to come running any second now. And using up what precious electricity they have this week for a wedding? It’s such a waste. He won’t be getting any warm showers this week.

This whole affair is useless, and shouldn’t be happening. Oikawa, cheering and hollering as the whole room erupts into laughter and dance, nudges him in his side, tells him to cheer up. But he can’t.

There’s no time for love when you live like this.

(Not when it can disappear in the blink of an eye.)

\---

Supply runs fill him with a sense of purpose.

With his youth and his skill with hunting and killing, Atsumu is top of the list when choosing volunteers to go into the nearby city for supplies. The people depend on him, applaud his efforts, seek safety in him. And he likes it, because it makes him feel useful, like he’s actually making a difference. Sure, patrols were where you actively defend the town, but that causes him to get bored, and when he gets bored he could slip up.

He doesn’t particularly like what comes with doing a supply run, however.

Clearing out infected, or fighting off groups of hunters has left him with too many close calls for him to be comfortable with. He’s been on the brink of death too many times for him to count, has felt its clutches when a clicker snaps its teeth at his face, saw darkness when another survivor wrapped their dirty hands around his throat and squeezed with all their might. But in the end, he always survives. Always. Even when it seems impossible, he always makes it out to the other side.

Old man Nekomata had said it meant the universe wanted him to keep going, that it had something in store for him.

Atsumu thinks that it’s all just a cruel fucking joke. And he’s waiting for the punchline.

Why the town leaders insist on sending Asahi on supply runs, he’ll never know, and that itself is another cruel joke. The man shrieks at his own shadow and is as violent as a kitten with a ball of yarn. He has no stomach for this kind of work, he should be back home and tending to the vegetables with Yachi, not here trembling like a mouse and giving Atsumu a headache. Maybe the leaders think his size and stature will intimidate any hunters or lurkers, but honestly it doesn't do them any good, and he would prefer a straight shooter than a scary looking man-child. 

Atsumu can’t really tell, especially with how blank his face is, but he’s pretty sure Aone is getting a headache too. And so far, their search for supplies has been unsuccessful, so Atsumu isn’t feeling the  _ best  _ right now.

Daichi pulls out his map of the town, takes some notes.

“Ok, we’ve completely covered the apartment block and the coffee shop, but I don’t think we’ve hit the bank yet. There could be some good stuff there, but we need to be careful. Aran thought he saw some infected swarming the place on his supply run last week.”

Atsumu counts the bullets in his pistol, makes a mental note to pick up some rags to make a molotov before they leave the building. “Delightful,” he drones, fixing the bag on his back. He picks at the dirt under his nails. No matter how much he washes them, they’ll always be stained. In more ways than just dirt. “Let’s make a move, shall we ladies?”

Aone grunts, exits the room swiftly. Asahi whines, but moves once Daichi sends him a withering glare. Daichi himself sighs, looking worn out, probably feeling even more so, and flicks his head towards the door.

“Let’s go, I want to be back before nightfall.”

Atsumu is already moving out the door, staring at the old art pieces hanging haphazardly on the walls as he makes his way outside the building. Art in the old world was weird, who thinks that a bunch of red lines splattered on a canvas was art? Lame. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he replies. And off they go.

\---

Turns out Daichi was right. The bank was full of supplies, enough to sustain the town for at least a month and a half, and that's  _ before  _ rationing. It was a great haul, and Atsumu is already looking forward to the praise they'll get when they return. 

But the bank was also full of clickers, 7 clickers at the very least, the rest were runners, around 10. Kyoutani is going to go  _ crazy  _ once he hears how many infected Atsumu killed.

The bank had one final surprise in store for the group. Inside the bank, huddled into a hole in the roof, was a worn, beat up, and on-the-verge-of-death looking girl. They almost wouldn't have noticed you, had Aone's ears not perked up at the almost imperceptible squeak you gave from your spot in the roof.

You looked worse for wear, and that was Atsumu being kind. To put it frankly, you looked like shit - your clothes look like they had been chewed up by a bloater and spat out, more hole than cloth, and your skin was grimy, a thick coat of dirt making you look like you had crawled right out of a grave. With the way you look, maybe you should have turned around and crawled back in.

And most suspiciously, the area where your stomach is was covered with blood, and with what little strength you had left, you clutched onto it for dear life, wheezing in pain as sweat rolled down your temple.

Atsumu had nearly put a bullet in your head right then and there, but was stopped by Asahi's endless compassion.

"Are ya crazy?" he roared, looking at Asahi incredulously. Does he not know the dangers someone like you brought? "Do you not see the wound on her stomach, or are ya blind now, as well as stupid?" Asahi flinches at his words, and his lips take on a slight tremble, yet he still stands in front of your body protectively. What an idiot. 

"Atsumu!" Daichi barks, moving to rub his eyes harshly in annoyance. Neither Atsumu nor Aone remove their guns, pointed right at you as you looked at them weakly.

"C'mon Daichi, you can't seriously be considerin' taking her back with us? The girl has a bleedin' stomach in a building full of infected, use yer brain, for fucks sake! Do I need ta remind ya about what happened to Kita?"

Daichi sighs, rubs his eyes a little harder. 

"No, you don't. But we can't just leave her here to die, Atsumu."

Atsumu tuts, sneers down at you. You stare right back, defiant despite looking like you’ll pass out at any second. His thick brows furrow even more. If Asahi wants to save you so badly he can be the one to risk a bite.

"Fine, but Asahi’s the one who's checkin' her."

As expected, Asahi immediately objects, and his face morphs into an expression of terror.

“Wait, what? I don’t want to do that!”

“Oh, yeah?” Atsumu scoffs, glares at the bearded man. “You want her so bad, you get to check her. We’re not risking bringin’ an infected into town.”

“...I’m not infected, asshole,” you mutter weakly, and Atsumu sends you a look of suspicion, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but we’re still looking.”

“B-But, but I don’t want to, that’s too dangerous!”

“You were the one who wanted to save her in the first place, either ya search for a bite or we leave her here to die.”

“Jesus, Atsumu! You can’t just leave her here like that!”

“Asahi, shut up and look for a bite!”

“N-No!”

“I swear to-!”

“Enough!” Daichi’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, and both men whip around to face him. The brunette is unholstering his gun, making his way to your prone form. Your face is ashen, dangerously low on blood, and you eye Daichi warily as he stands over your body. With a quick apologetic look sent your way, he points his gun at your head as a precaution before ever so slowly removing your hand from your stomach and inching your ragged shirt upwards until your torso is in full view to the group. Atsumu and Aone train their guns on you a little tighter, fingers ready on the trigger. 

Daichi looks for a long moment, and the boys wait in tense silence, breathing in dust and dirt while the late summer sun shines down on them through the cracks in the roof.

After what feels like forever, he lowers his gun, steps back. “She’s clean,” he announces, and everyone except Atsumu breathes a sigh of relief. He scowls, squints at the grotesque wound on your stomach - it looks rough, like something tore right through you, and he’s not going to give up on the fact that you’ve been hiding in an area riddled with infection and have a wound. It’s too  _ suspicious. _

“I told you.” You groan as you move your hand over the wound again, attempting to sit up but failing miserably and instead sliding down again.

“Bullshit, I know she ain’t clean. How the hell did you get it?”

“I fell on a pipe when I came here,” it’s a struggle for you to talk, but Atsumu demands answers. “Infected came...hid in the roof. I-I’ve...been here for days...please help me…”

It’s a whisper, a plea, and Atsumu’s heart twists. He’s heard those same words one too many times.

“Asahi, carry the supplies back to the truck. Aone, help me lift her, we’re bringing her back with us,” Daichi orders, and the quiet man moves on instinct, lifting you by your legs while Daichi holds your upper half. You give a groan in protest, whimpering with pain.

“‘Scuse me?” Atsumu exclaims, but Daichi sends him a stern look, brushes past him with you, weak as a kitten in his arms. Atsumu scoffs loudly and glares at you, never once holstering his gun. "Whatever. If shit goes down I want people to know it was  _ your  _ fault for lettin' her in town."

He doesn't wait for a reply. He rushes past the trio and out to the truck where Asahi is loading up the supplies. He sits, he sulks, and he keeps an eye trained on you from the mirror in the front seat. At some point you catch his gaze in the reflection, your own look of indignation set upon your face despite the sweat rolling down your forehead and the ashen complexion that indicates you're headed into troubled waters if they don't get you help soon. It forces Atsumu to swallow down a nasty comment and instead focus on the road ahead, brushing a mop of black hair out of his eyes.

Whatever. The faster you get out of his sight the better. Hopefully the town will kick you out and he can return to the normality of his life.

\---

Well, the town didn't kick you out. Or kill you.

Turns out you weren't infected, just as you had said. (You really did fall onto a stray pipe sticking up out of the ground, what an  _ idiot. _ ) The diagnosis was made from the two resident doctors of the town, who promptly patched you up and set you to rest. In the meantime, the town leaders decided that, should you want it, they'd let you stay in the town as long as you work and do your bit for the community. 

Any sort of protest Atsumu makes about you, your background, your injury, the potential danger you posed to the people living here, were tossed into a fire and turned to ash.

So much for fucking democracy.

You make an appearance on the 5th day of arriving in town, wandering out of the makeshift hospital, and the town welcomes you with open arms when it was announced you’ll be staying. And Atsumu  _ hates  _ it.

He broods as he tries to go about his days, because he doesn’t fucking trust you. Any day now he expects some hunters to come barging into town, on the prowl and looking for you in revenge for killing their friends or whatever. It’s a real concern, and it makes his blood  _ boil _ when people brush him off and send him a patronising smile, telling him to take it easy.

He took it easy, once. And he lost his fucking brother over it. He isn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

So after weeks of glaring at you from a distance, or talking shit about you while you were close by to hear it, and just being blatantly rude to you, you barge up to him with a scowl, and he thinks  _ this is it, she’s going to attack me and the town will see and they throw her ou- _

“Look, are you obsessed with me? I mean, I get why you’re on edge because I’m new or whatever, but the constant dirty looks are wearing me out. I’m just trying to enjoy my beans in peace, y’know?”

You huff, cross your arms.

“If I knew you were going to be this annoying, I would have just faked being bit and let you put a bullet in my skull. Jeez,” you mutter.

And with that said, you turn on your heel back to the gardens to resume your duties.

Atsumu decides to ignore your presence altogether now.

\---

Of all people to get stuck on guard duty with, it just had to be  _ you,  _ didn't it?

Atsumu already complained to Dominic, one of the town leaders, all dark skin and greying beard and a face too kind for the world he lives in, but the man just smiled, and told him the time alone together would be good for you both. He had gotten wind of problems the two of you were unwilling to overcome (fuck you, Daichi, you  _ snitch _ ), and decided that pairing the two of you together to check out a nearby disturbance would be a wonderful bonding experience.

_ Right. _

It’s twenty minutes into his shift with you as you both traverse through the nearby forest, and he’s close to screaming.

You’ve slipped nearly 100 times now, and snorted like a pig after each trip like it’s a classic joke that never gets old. Well, after the 10th fall,  _ it got fucking old.  _ You  _ ‘ooh’  _ and  _ ‘ahh’  _ at every fucking flower you’ve both come across, and you’ve attempted to tell him the same story of when you once took on three bloaters at once (‘just to fill the silence’, you had said, ‘and because it’s a great story’. Not that he believes you at all, but he isn’t going to give you the satisfaction of feeding into your lies) for the past half an hour but you stop every time you trip, so you start the entire story over again until he’s sure his brain has melted into mush and is pouring out of his ears.

He’d beg on his knees if it meant he could partner up with someone else right now. Seriously. He’d take anyone, even Aone, if it meant not having to suffer for any longer than he already has. He knows he’s sinned in the past, but surely karma could not be this cruel.

Another trip. Another snort.

“Whoops! Nearly died there-anyway. What was I saying? Oh yeah! So, there I was,  _ surrounded-” _

He cracks.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?!”

You blink dumbly, and he can feel his ire building. How can someone be this loopy, away with the fairies, in the fucked up world they live in?

“I don’t, but thanks for asking! Anyway-”

He splutters in anger, whipping his head around to face you. But you continue onwards, oblivious to the glare he’s burning into your back. You stop, sniff at a wildflower.

“Why are you so stupid?” he asks, and scowls when you laugh.

“Why are you so angry? I guess these are just life’s greatest mysteries.”

“I’m angry because you’re just so...stupid.” It’s a lame insult. He’ll have to do better next time.

“Nice,” you say sarcastically, and he’s ready to throw a branch at your head. “I’m stupid because I lose braincells in your presence. That must be your superpower.”

“God yer so lame.”

“Right back at ya.”

He scoffs, keeps his eyes trained ahead, eyes roving through the bushes and trees. 

“How did someone like you last this long?” he mumbles. 

“The same as anyone else, I suppose,” you reply cryptically, but Atsumu understands it plenty. The scars he wears on his back are telling enough of his own battles. You look like you’re going to say more, but you trip  _ again,  _ this time slipping off a large stone you attempted to hop on. He rolls his eyes.

“No wonder ya fell on a pipe. Yer so fuckin’  _ clumsy _ , one of these days yer gonna fall into a nest of infected if ya ain’t careful.”

“Hey, not everyone was blessed with amazing balance, ok?” you sigh, smooth down the dirty jeans that cling to your frame. “What are we looking for anyway?”

“Oikawa said that he heard some strange noises comin’ from an old shed nearby, but him and Jenny didn’t have enough ammo to deal with it so they left. Now we’re being sent out to deal with it- are you even listenin’ to me?”

You’re staring at some birds in the trees, lost in wonder. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, fishy stuff in a shed. Got it.”

“You are infuriatin’, y’know that?” 

“So I’ve been told.”

“Good. Glad someone else said it, too.”

“You’re no ray of sunshine either, Atsumu.”

His brown eyes flicker over to you, and catches you staring at him with a brow arched and an unimpressed look on your face. Atsumu is equally unimpressed.

“Don’t need to be. Just need to be good at what I do,” is what he replies, and you look like you want to say more, but drop it. 

“Whatever. You’ll love me eventually. People usually do.”

At that he laughs, loudly and mockingly, but you look unaffected, as if you expected his reaction.

“Highly doubt that, sweetheart, but keep dreamin’. Whatever lets you sleep at night.” He smiles sweetly, but it’s about as real as this apocalypse being a giant prank. _ ‘Love you eventually’ _ . What a load of  _ bull _ . Like that will ever happen.

“Just you wait and see-”

“Shh!”

He cuts off whatever you’re about to say as the shed comes into view, a dingy and isolated thing in the forest, and the two of you duck down behind the nearest overturned tree. He can definitely hear some shuffling coming from inside, and it makes him grip his gun tighter. He looks at you, then inclines his head towards the rundown shack.

“Go on, then.”

Your eyes bulge out of their sockets, and he wants to laugh at the incredulous expression you’re making, but smirks instead.

“Excuse me?!”

“Go check out whatever is in the shed.” You’re shaking your head violently and backing away slowly, but he grabs your wrist and yanks you next to him once more. “Look, think of this as an initiation process into the town, yeah? Prove yerself here, and you can stay in the town. I’ll vouch for ya.”

You balk at him, and he just smiles in response. The shuffling in the shed continues, increasing in volume.

“No fucking way! I’m not going in there alone, are you crazy?”

“Hmm, maybe. But look, you do this and the town will love ya. Might even get an extra bit of grub tonight.” You don’t move an inch. He sighs. “Don’t be so lame, just get over there, will ya? I’ll be right behind you. I’ll take out whatever’s in there. Don’t worry. I just need you to open the door for me and run. Got it?”

You eye the door of the shed with a great amount of caution, and drag those worried eyes back to him. 

“Just open and run?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And you swear you’ll kill whatever’s in there right away?”

“Obviously, that’s why we’re here.”

Another moment of hesitation. He feels the summer breeze kiss the back of his neck as he awaits your decision. Not that you have much of a choice. You’re gonna have to fight whatever’s in there anyway.

“Fine, just- don’t accidentally shoot me, ok?”

“No promises,” he drawls, smirks at the panicked look you shoot him. You make your way over to the door with slow, cautious steps. The noise from the shed has suspiciously ceased, and it sets you on edge even more, and it’s with shaking hands you grip the handle of the shed, sending one last look of trepidation in Atsumu’s direction. He has his gun aimed at the door, lifts a thumb to you (one you clearly do not appreciate, if the venomous glare is anything to go by). He watches as your shoulders lift and fall as you take a deep breath, and ever so slowly you lift the latch of the shed and pull, waiting until the last moment to fling the door open and start bolting in the opposite direction as something shoots out of the shed. He raises his gun, ready to take on whatever was waiting behind the closed door.

You fall, because  _ of course you had to fucking fall _ , and you scream at the top of your lungs in fear and hysteria, and Atsumu feels, for a split second, the icy cold grip of panic seize him and halt his movements, finger on the trigger, ready to start shooting blindly when-

When a small grey rabbit, no bigger than the bag on his back scurries out of the shed and right past your screaming, prone form, headed straight for the bushes and out of sight. With the door wide open, Atsumu can clearly see there’s nothing else in the shed. It was just the fucking rabbit. 

Your screams begin to die down into a sound of confusion, your head whipping about from the shed to the rabbit to Atsumu, and Atsumu buckles over and laughs.

And laughs.

And  _ laughs. _

And he  _ can’t stop. _

It’s a full blown, belly-busting, wheezing, cramp inducing sort of laugh, and it’s the first time he’s laughed this hard in- wow, he can’t even remember the last time he laughed this hard. But he is in tears, and he can’t produce a coherent sentence before he unravels again and starts giggling like a child. 

You look miffed, but not angry at the fact he’s laughing at your expense, because eventually you start laughing too, and the two of you sit there, in the heart of the forest, laughing up at the sky and feeling silly for getting so worked up. He feels like a child again, like when he used to play pranks on his brother. For once, his heart feels at ease, if only for a short time. It’s nice.

“God, that was so  _ lame _ ,” he comments, once his laughter has begun to die down. You make a sound of annoyance but it doesn't sound genuine.

“I could have died! Spare me some sympathy.”

He chuckles again, lays his back on the grass and rubs at the cramps in this tummy. You sit near him, grinning to yourself.

“Add this to your bloater story, I’m sure the town will go nuts over it.”

You laugh sweetly, and the sound sends a pang deep in his stomach.  _ Wait. _

“I will! Now, do I make it a horde of clickers, or a freak infected rabbit? Which sounds more dramatic?” you place a finger to your chin, looking deep in thought. You look at him from the corner of your eye and smile. He smirks back.

“Honestly? Use both, but make sure to add in how I saved you.”

You scoff at that, but acquiesce nonetheless. “You didn’t save shit, but fine. I’ll tell them that after you sacrificed me to the infected you had a change of heart and saved me last minute.”

His brows furrow, scowling at you from his spot on the ground.

“I wasn’t sacrificin’ ya. I needed you to open the door, didn’t look like there was any way to sneak inside. I wouldn’t do that.” He pauses momentarily as you roll your eyes playfully. “No matter how annoyin’ you can be,” he adds, biting his lip to hide the smile he knows will grow on his face when you laugh.

“Just for that, I’m gonna tell you my bloater story all over again.”

He groans loudly, throws his arm over his face to block out the sun shining down on him through the leaves. 

“I shoulda left you to the rabbit.”

“Is that how a knight in shining armour is supposed to treat a lady? That doesn’t fit well in the story, Atsumu.”

“Neither does callin’ yerself a lady, but you’re gonna do it anyways.”

You laugh again, and the sound is sweet, like birds chirping in the morning and oh- it brings another flutter to his stomach, a almost foreign feeling to him, one has not felt for a long time, and-

Fuck. 

Stop that.

Panic makes itself known in the forefront of his mind. This can’t happen. Not now, not ever.

(But deep down, in the back of his mind, a part he’s killed and buried long ago, tells him to relax. Let it happen. Be happy, for once.)

He peeks at you from under his arm to see you’re smiling softly, idly playing with the flowers growing on the grass. His heart skips a small beat. Nearly unnoticeable, but it still happened.

(Learn to love again, his brain says.

But he’s too _ scared. _ )

\---

"She's a strange one, isn't she?"

Atsumu sits on a worn and damp couch thrown outside one of the houses, taking a swift moment to relax in the heavy summer sun before he spends the night on patrol with Tendou, of all people. He heaves a sigh. It's going to be a long fucking night.

His brown eyes drift to his left where Lisa, a fairly good looking woman despite the scars lining the edges of her visage and the wrinkles that slowly creep on her face due to age, takes a seat on the arm of the couch, mindful of the stray springs that stick out. He raises a thick brow at her, but she isn't looking at him.

Instead her gaze is transfixed on you as you play with the small number of children the town has. 

(He acts like he's just taking notice of you on the far end of the estate, doesn't dare say that he's kept an eye on you this entire time with the tiniest of smiles lifting the corners of his lips.

If Lisa noticed, she doesn't say. But she does give him a knowing smile.)

"Absolute weirdo," he mumbles, stretching his back and groaning in satisfaction when the bones in his back crack with a resounding pop.

Your laughter, as sweet as a peach and ringing like bells to the door of each house, echoes through the town, and it's a lovely sound to hear, even nicer when the vibrant giggles and shrieks of the children join in to create a symphony of happiness. It's enough to draw people out to their doors, to watch with muted, nostalgic smiles as the children revel in their innocence for just a day longer.

(Innocence is such a rare thing, now. So fleeting. Here today, destroyed tomorrow.)

Lisa laughs quietly, shakes her head.

“I didn’t mean it that harshly. I meant that the girl is different from the rest of us. She talks a mile a minute and has her head stuck in the clouds. Keeps a smile on her face at all times, that sort of stuff, you know?”

He  _ does  _ know, because he keeps track of you. His glares have become less prominent since that day in the forest, instead turning into glances across the mess hall and a brushing of shoulders in the vegetable patches. He’s noticed everything you do - how you have a smile saved for everyone, how you joke about every little thing to lift up the spirits of the townsfolk, how you laugh freely and without hesitation, like nothing was wrong with the world, that this little bubble you’ve created could never be popped.

(It plants a seed of hope in his chest, that maybe this world isn’t so desolate and dead as he had thought, as he had experienced. He refuses to add any water to the seed, hoping to let it die and turn to stone in his chest. 

Because hope is dangerous and it will get you killed.)

“Maybe she’s batshit crazy, took too many hits to the head or somethin’ y’know?” he snorts, watching from the corner of his eye as Lisa turns her gaze to him. But he refuses to meet her eye. Lisa seems to have this strange power of reading people with just a look, knowing every single one of their emotions before they even feel them. It’s equal parts amazing and annoying, because it allows the nosy bitch to stick her head in where it doesn’t belong. Nekomata had once jokingly called her a witch, and her response was to laugh. No one disputed it, though. The woman herself hums thoughtfully, and returns her gaze to you.

“Or maybe she sees something the rest of us don’t.”

She taps her chin, purses her lips. 

“She’s a special one. We need to keep her around. I like her.”

Atsumu scoffs, drags his shoes across the stones beneath his feet. His lips lift into a smirk when he sees you attempting to let the children hang off your biceps while you pose, like some superhero he saw in passing on a poster. You aren’t very successful, especially when the kids all try to jump on you at once.

“That makes one of us, at least.”

“Is that so?” she drawls. Atsumu avoids her eyes once more. He’s afraid of what she’ll see, what she’ll discover before he does. But it’s with a soft hum and a gentle smile on her lips that she drops the subject, doesn’t make the effort to pry, because it seems she has already gotten her answer. “Well, hotshot, I came to ask if you wanted to take a tumble in the sheets before you spend the night doing guard duty? Haven’t seen you come near my room in a while.”

He takes a moment to appraise her - she has a strange sort of beauty to her, definitely one of the better looking people in town, and being in her mid to late thirties hasn't seemed to affect her majorly besides wrinkles. She says she's a lucky one, that she would've been quite the looker in the old world. He doesn't doubt that. 

He considers her offer for a moment. It’s been a while since he crawled into her bed for some comfort, wouldn’t mind it if she helped release some of the tension that’s been building up inside him for weeks now, since that day at the woods.

He looks back to you, and gives a light laugh when he sees the kids tackle you to the ground and dogpile on top of you while you shout comically and roar with laughter, a sound so strong and so pure it knocks the wind out of his chest in one fell swoop. His tummy flutters again, seems like it’s doing a lot more of that lately. He internally curses, and when he looks back at Lisa, her lips are pulled back into a lopsided, knowing smile.

“No thanks, think I’ll pass. Save it for someone else.” He clears his throat. “I’ll see ya around,” and with that said he gets up to make his way to the community centre to get his list of jobs for the day, making sure he passes by you so he can throw some snarky comment at you, only to savour the grin and the comeback you have on hand, giggling with glee when the kids back you up and start teasing Atsumu.

(He thinks about you playing with the kids all night, too distracted as he stares up at the night sky. Tendou pokes fun at him in retaliation for not performing his duties properly for a week straight.)

\---

He's noticed you've been spending a lot of time with Oikawa lately. Not that he's been stealing glances at you whenever he can, or drifting nearby whenever he sees you in the area, or happening to drop by the vegetable gardens when you're on duty because he was, you know, on his way to do other stuff. Yeah, stuff.

But he's noticed that you've been hanging around the brunette a lot lately, almost as much as you hang out with him, and he doesn't like the way his stomach twists in jealousy when he thinks about that airhead stealing your time-

Wait, no.  _ No.  _ Atsumu shouldn't care about who you spend your time with. Sure, the two of you may be 'friends' now (in the loosest term, because you annoy him as all hell, but he annoys you too, and it's become a sort of daily competition as to who can annoy the other person more, but he finds he doesn't mind it at all), but that gives him no right to pick and choose who you talk to.

But when you giggle at Oikawa's jokes, he can't help the wicked turning of his stomach and the sourness in his face as he stares at the both of you relaxing in the mess hall.

You don't seem to notice him as much these days, and for some bizarre, inexplicable reason, he feels the need to amend that.

(Because his heart just won't settle for watching you be happy with someone else.)

And so when the next supply run comes around, he offers to go, suggests searching the pharmacy again despite it being cleared for medicine before,  _ just in case  _ they missed something, and puts his plan in motion that night once the group returns from the run.

Suffice to say, the next morning, he definitely caught your attention. He caught  _ everyone's  _ attention.

Your brows sky rocket up to your hairline, and once you get over the initial shock and stop gawking with your mouth wide open, you openly laugh in disbelief.

"What the  _ hell _ did you do, Atsumu?"

Well, he went to the pharmacy, grabbed one of the forgotten and unused boxes of hair bleach, and spent all night trying to figure out how to turn his hair from black to white,  _ that's what he did.  _ But it turned less white, more yellow, makes him look a weird shade of blonde now, like the cushions Mrs Fischer keeps in her living room. Mustard, he thinks it was called.

(Was it a stupid idea? Most likely. Was it worth it seeing the smile on your face and have you gently play with the locks on his head?  _ Definitely. _ )

"What? Ya don't like my new look?"

You scoff when he smirks, leaning against the wall in an attempt to look like those stupid models he's seen on big billboards in the city.

"I mean- it's just...it's such a  _ shock.  _ Where did you even get the stuff to colour it?" You lean in closer to take a better look at his hair, and the proximity of your body makes him feel dizzy in the best way possible. He swallows thickly.

"The pharmacy," he answers, bringing a hand up to feel a tuft of his hair. Kinda feels like straw now, definitely in worse condition than what it was before, but he doesn't think it looks half bad on him. "Nobody uses the stuff anyway, it's useless. Said fuck it and just grabbed a box."

You shake your head in disbelief.

"You look ridiculous. You can be a real idiot sometimes, you know that, right?"

That causes him to frown, and he looks down at his feet awkwardly as he shuffles in place.

"Looks that bad, huh?" He sighs quietly. You raise a brow at him, but ultimately give him a small, fond smile, reaching up to play softly with the tips of his hair. He has to stop himself from leaning into your touch, from closing his eyes and getting lost in the feeling. Can't stop the blush that creeps up his neck, though.

"No, I actually kind of like it. I think it suits you." Your smile turns mischievous, and it's safe to say this quiet moment is brought back to normality. "Kinda looks like the colour of piss, though."

You laugh when you dodge the fist he aims at you, and bounce away, taunting him to follow after you and catch you. He heaves a dramatic sigh, pulls a fake scowl.

"You're a real thorn in my side, d'you know that?"

"Aww Atsumu, are you calling me a rose?" you croon, and sprint away with loud laughter when he makes a move to grab you 

"You wish!" He tells as he chases you in beneath the morning sky, and the soft breeze carries both sets of laughter in the air.

(No, you're not a rose, he thinks. You're much sweeter and more beautiful than one. 

Better than all the flowers in the world.

This, he knows, for a fact.

And with that thought in mind, his traitorous heart skips a beat once more.)

\---

“Hey! Can we get a hand over here? Look what we brought back!”

Oikawa’s voice calls out to the people in the open space of the little town square the community has created, an old parking lot in front of the community centre, a hub for announcements to the people and send off’s for the supply run crews. It’s not much, but old man Nekomata says it does good for the community, brings back a sense of organisation and normality to the world. Atsumu doesn’t care much for it but he can see the logic. 

Townsfolk begin to drift towards where the truck has pulled up, with Oikawa, Tendou and another woman Atsumu doesn’t fully recognise all gathered in the back of the pickup, struggling to shimmy something large and heavy and covered with a tarp off of the truck with care. You put down your cards and your game of Five Lives is forgotten momentarily as you lead the pack of strays and pull Atsumu by his wrist, running up to check on your friend (yes,  _ friend.  _ Atsumu made sure to find out just how close exactly you were to the whiny brunette. Not that he  _ cares _ , of course. Certainly not.), and lowering the tailgate while others on the ground work on gently lowering the mystery object to the ground. 

With a collective heave, the group place it on the ground, and Atsumu moves to stand beside you as you eye up Oikawa’s strange present, practically buzzing with curiosity. Atsumu stares at it warily, and ignores Oikawa’s smug grin and Tendou’s creepy smirk when they stand beside it.

“Well?” you ask, and promptly huff when Oikawa pretends like he didn’t hear you. “What is it?”

“Satori, my dearest mutant man, will you do you the honour?” Oikawa lifts his nose in the air haughtily, and Atsumu just has to scoff at the theatrics. Tendou ignores the jab, and with a proud grin, grabs hold of the tarp, and with a flourish he whips it upwards and away to reveal-

Well, Atsumu doesn’t actually know what he’s looking at. Neither do you, if the confused raise of your brow was anything to go by.

But some people in the crowd murmur in surprise, in delight, and he reckons it must be something good if it was enough to make a lazy bastard like Oikawa haul it back.

“ _ Yeah,  _ haven’t a clue what we’re lookin’ at,” Atsumu comments, and the brunette heaves a fed up sigh through cracked lips.

“This is a  _ jukebox _ , Miya. Surely someone must have explained to you what this does.”

His brows furrow at the derisive tone of Oikawa’s voice. So what if he doesn’t know what it is? Not like he has anyone in his life to teach him about anything except for how to survive. You gasp in delight before Atsumu has the chance to even think about knocking Oikawa’s ass to the curb.

“ _ Wait.  _ Tooru, is this actually a jukebox? Wow, where did you find this? Is there any way we can turn it on?” You bounce on your toes with unbridled excitement, latching onto Atsumu’s bicep for balance. (He flexes his arm subtly and subconsciously, and has to bite back the grimace that wants to make itself known on his face over how lame he behaves around you.) 

The third member of the group wiggles a cord that sticks out the back of the jukebox, and makes a move for the storage shed beside the community centre, presumably to grab something to power up the machine. “I’ll try to see if there are any extension leads to plug it in!”

You turn back to the machine, and move your fingers over it delicately, like you’ve just discovered some long lost treasure. He examines the mystery machine, and he just can’t fathom what the hell it is. Dusty and covered with grime, with a few scratches lining the bottom, it’s otherwise in pretty good condition considering how ruined the rest of the world looks. Long, with a round top, there looks to be a stack of CD’s sitting at the top, and Atsumu squints, trying to identify the list of words that rest beneath the CD stack. 

“Still don’t know what this does,” he folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at Oikawa, ready to beat his ass if he tries to say something funny again. You beat him to the punch (unfortunately, because the self-righteous look Oikawa is sporting makes him want to kick him into next year.)

“It’s a jukebox! My mom told me that these were really popular even before she was born, so this is probably really old. She said it would play a whole bunch of music- see the CD’s in there? That must be the music list below it. Man, this is so cool!”

Oh. So it just plays music? Not very practical for the community, and seems like it’ll eat their precious electricity up faster than he can piss but, whatever. If you’re happy then he supposes it’s fine. 

“Don’t really see what the hype is for,” he shrugs, smirks when you pout up at him. Tendou slides an arm around the blonde's shoulders and he yelps in surprise when Tendou roughly tugs him close.

“Aww, ‘Mumu, don’t be such a downer! Just enjoy this wonderful gift I have decided to bestow upon these peasants-”

“I was the one who found it!” Oikawa puffs out his cheeks like an angry squirrel.

“-and promise me that you’ll shake that cute lil’ booty of yours when the music kicks in, hmm?” Tendour barrels on, sneaking a hand down to pinch Atsumu’s left ass cheek and prancing away before the blonde has a chance to react, too busy recoiling in shock.

“I found one!” The woman jogs back to the now even larger throng of people, all waiting impatiently to see the jukebox in action. With a grunt, she plugs the jukebox into the extension lead, and gets to work with Oikawa on figuring out where the power switch is. He’s getting ready to laugh at their fruitless efforts and return to the card game he was winning when suddenly the jukebox flickers, a flash of bright colourful lights appear until they settle after a few moments, and everyone begins to hold their breath in anticipation. Oikawa calls your name, and directs you to the list of songs.

“Ladies first,” he smiles. You squeal with joy, and flit over to the jukebox. Atsumu smiles, and his chest tightens with affection as you stick out your tongue in concentration, because this obviously was a very important job. You just  _ had  _ to pick the best song to play first. Letting out a soft ‘aha!’ once you chose a song, you pressed the button and stood back in glee when the lights changed, and the CD’s in the jukebox moved around. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t in awe, staring in wonder at this old world machine he now gets to experience-

A screeching sound pierces through his daydreaming, and everyone collectively winces at the horrible sounds emanating from the jukebox. Well, there goes that dream.

“Great song, idiot,” he teases, snickering at the crestfallen look on your face. Oikawa looks utterly devastated, and is ready to plug out the jukebox until-

Until the terrible, eardrum shattering noises begin to mellow out, and slowly but surely the first notes of a song begin to play. It sounds kind of weird, slightly out of tune and warbly due to the years of unuse and abandonment it suffered, but it’s a song nonetheless, and a lively one at that, and once the chorus kicks in people begin to cheer and clap and move about, moving this way and that way to the beat of a song that was almost forgotten.

You faced him, then, with a smirk that spoke trouble, and with a gentle touch, grabbed both of his hands.

“Care to dance with me, tiger?”

His heart leapt to his throat, and he grew worried that you could feel the sweat forming on his hands, but with great effort, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, and put on his trademark smirk, to hide how affected he was by your glittering eyes and your sweet smile.

“I dunno if dancing is really my thing, but you go ahead.”

_ Idiot! Why would you want to walk away? You want to stay with her, feel her, hold her close to you, stupid stupid  _ **_stupid-_ **

“Too late.”

He doesn’t have a moment to process what you said because in that next moment, you’re swinging him around like your life depended on it, and he struggles to keep his balance as you drag his body and threaten to pull his arms off as if he were no lighter than a doll.

He’d snap at you, but he stops himself. You’re laughing, so loudly and happily, as you torment him with this vicious form of dance, and your smile is as wide as he’s ever seen it. He’s pretty sure it could split your face in half, but it’s big and beautiful and it takes his breath away, it’s all he can focus on as life around you becomes a blur of music and dancing bodies as he finally grips onto your hands properly and spins you around even faster, taking pride in the peals of laughter and giggles that spill from your lips. 

He wouldn’t count this as a dance at all, but he doesn’t care. All he can do is tug you closer to him until he can feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest, as his surroundings fade away and it’s all he can do but to stay focused on you, keep his eyes locked and mesmerised on yours.

(He realises later on that night as he collapsed in a tired, sweaty heap on his dingy mattress, that spending the night dancing with you was the most he has smiled and laughed in a very,  _ very,  _ long time. It was enough to make him forget about the dangerous times they live in,  _ you  _ were enough to make him forget there were even monsters lurking about altogether.

It’s nice, he thinks, to not have to think about death, and instead about life. 

He falls asleep with a smile.)

\---

To say Atsumu was worried when you came back from a supply run absolutely  _ soaked  _ head to toe in blood and other chunks of grime, would be the understatement of the fucking century.

No, ‘worried’ was too light a term for the absolute crippling fear that paralysed him when the others carried you off the truck.

(His heart stopped beating, stopped dead in its tracks and left him with the inability to function, except for thoughts of you flooding through his mind and the icy cold grip of fear wrapping around his throat and leaving him gasping, desperate for air. He can think of only one other moment in his life when he experienced this insane amount of terror and-

And he hates being sent back to that wretched time.

Because all he feels is dread, like lead in the pit of his stomach, because he doesn't want to lose another person in his life.)

Apparently it was Leader Riaan’s decision to send a group of you to some random warehouses on the outskirts of the city he had seen on patrol. And that was fine, he even sent a big enough group to raid the warehouses, but according to Thomas the place was flooded with infected, and the group was forced to run and get to safety. Except, you had gotten separated from the rest as one of the entryways collapsed and had to make your way out of it. 

And as if that hadn’t already sent waves of anxiety through him faster than a bullet to his heart, there was still the explanation for the blood. You had ran towards a nearby waste disposal factory to get away from a group of clickers but were stopped by humans living inside. They offered to help you and let you inside but, well…

People’s intentions these days are never pure.

The details on your time there are blurry to him as he had bolted away from the group you were with as soon as he heard word that the doctor said you were fine, but he gets the jist of it:

They attacked, you defended yourself, and apparently pushed him in some sort of machine with spinning blades and-

Yeah, that explains the blood. He doesn’t want to think about it any more. Neither do you.

So here he sits, on your bed with a bloody, wet rag in his hand and a bucket full of water long since stained pink, wiping the events of today off your skin.

(But these kinds of things are bone deep, and will stay with you long after tonight no matter how much you scratch at your skin.)

For the most part, you look like you’re taking it in stride, not letting it get to you, that you’re just tired. You say you’re fine. But the shake in your hands, the deep breaths, say otherwise, and Atsumu bites down whatever he wants to say and focuses on wiping your face clear of another person's flesh and blood.

He’s silently seething with anger, at you for falling for their trap, at himself for not picking up the shift, at those sick bastards in the factory. They could have killed you, or worse, they could have...

But there’s nothing he can do now, so instead he stays silent and simmers with anger. He plops the rag back into the bucket and scrubs it clean with force before returning it to your face and wiping down your forehead. 

“If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy,” you joke quietly, but it lacks its usual liveliness, and Atsumu bites down on the inside of his cheek.

He scoffs, but it’s less humorous, more so annoyed. He shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and rubs at your ear harshly out of spite, ignoring when you flick his own ear in response.

“You are a  _ stupid  _ girl, d’you know that?”

You look down to where your hands rest in your lap, where your thigh is pressed up against Atsumu’s. “I know, but they said they would help-”

“And you believed them? Seriously?” he barks, and feels sick when you flinch at the volume of his voice but he powers on because the fear has made him angry, and he doesn’t know how to process what he’s feeling. “Ya know what they do to people like you? Yer lucky you even made it out of there.” 

He throws the rag back into the bucket, and the water splashes onto the floorboards. It takes him a second to realise he’s breathing fast and deep with fury, with panic, and his back heaves with every breath he takes, the floor creaks with every bounce of his jittery leg as he leans over and places his forearms on his knees.

“ _ Fuck. _ ”

He swears, runs wet, bloodied fingers through his hair. When you rest your hand on his back he jumps, but allows you to move closer and lay your head on his shoulder. And he moves to rest his head on yours and begins to relax in your presence, as you remind him in every way that you’re  _ here;  _ your touch, your smell, your voice. Things he could have lost.

(It scares him when he realises he has suddenly become worried sick over someone that isn’t himself, how he is beside himself with concern and doubt whenever you leave his sight. It’s overbearing, the horror that takes hold of his heart. It feels like a thousand years since he’s ever cared about someone this way, and it  _ terrifies him. _ )

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into his shoulder, so quiet a breeze could carry your words away, but he feels the emotions behind it, and his heart breaks in half. His hand moves to hold yours that rests on the crook of his elbow, and he squeezes in a weak attempt at reassurance.

“You trust people too easily,” he says. Because it’s the truth. It’s  _ his  _ truth. Blind trust like that will only have you end up 6ft below this shit infested world.

But you raise your head from his shoulder, and offer him a sad, gentle smile, albeit one that shakes at the edges.

“Maybe you don’t trust people enough.”

The words, so simple, hit too close to home. He’s well aware he doesn’t have many friends, pushes them all away before they get too close. But things are safer that way.

It’s cruel, but life is cruel.

(And it makes him sadder than he can express with words.)

He sighs deeply, pulls you closer to his body, as close as possible, and just holds you, rocks you to sleep. You can finish washing up tomorrow, for now, you need to sleep.

(He sleeps next to you in your bed that night, holding onto your hand and watching as the moon filters through the window and casts and ethereal glow on your sleeping form, and makes a vow that night to protect you, to never let this sort of thing happen to you again so long as he lives and breathes.

_ Not like before. _ )


End file.
